Page 60 of The Reaper's Vice

I look down at the dark stain spreading along the front of my pants, frowning at the implications.If she can make me come by justtastingher, what am I going to do when I’m actually inside her?

Shaking the thought away, I return to my earlier job. I snap her ankles to each beam of the cross, then check the locks to make sure she can’t get free. Satisfied, I straighten, admiring my work for a moment before turning and leaving the room in search of clean pants. After deciding on a comfy pair of gray sweats, I return to Seraphina, adrenaline coursing through my veins and clearing my previously addled mind.

“Wake up, little dove,” I murmur, twisting her nipples hard enough to wake her.

Her eyes snap open, and the terrified sheen there sends a fresh wave of blood to my cock. Stepping forward so our chests are pressed together, I lean down to her collarbone, placing chaste kisses across the curve that has her moaning in delight.

“Fuck yes.” She arches her back so her breasts press against the planes of my chest. She grinds her pussy against the hard line of my cock, her mouth falling open with cries of dismay as she tries and fails to gain any friction.

I lower my hands to her hips, shoving her hips back against the cross and holding her there. Then, I drag the pad of my tongue up the side of her neck and face, ignoring her cries of shock as I fill myself with the taste of her skin.

“You’re so delicious,” I murmur, brushing the tip of my nose against hers. She looks up through thick silver lashes, the fire in her eyes turning her irises into swirling, molten gold.

“Please.” Her hips jerk as a pleading look enters her gaze. “Please, Orion. I need to come.”

I shake my head, a manic laugh filling the room. “You don’t deserve to come.”

Pulling my dagger out, I place the blade on the curve of her neck, dragging it lightly across her skin. A thin line of red materializes, such a stark contrast to the pale skin surrounding it.

I gaze at Seraphina’s face, surprised to find her eyes fluttering, her mouth slightly parted as breathy moans fall from her lips. “Fuck.” She looks up at me through hooded eyes. “Do that again.”

Trying to think past the roaring in my mind, I make two more quick cuts across her shoulder and chest, drawing a loud moan from Seraphina. Her head tilts back and her hips jerk, losing all control as the pain floods her nervous system.

“Oh my God,” she gasps, overcome by shudders. “Oh my God, I’m going to fucking come.”

“Not yet, you’re not,” I growl. “Not until I say so.” I pull away from her entirely, smirking at the pained cries that fill the air as I do. “Brats don’t deserve to feel pleasure. Brats deserve to be punished.”

“But I?—”

I press the tip of my blade to her sternum, causing her words to halt and her breath to come hard and fast. I dig the blade in just enough to draw a pearl of blood to the surface, swiveling it each time Seraphina moans.

Fuck. This is not going to be easy.

I continue placing small nicks across her torso, each trembling moan I drag from her lips feeding the beast lurking beneath my skin. I move the blade to her hip, frowning when I see the crescent moon I gave her the other night is nearly healed. I carve a fresh moon over the same spot, and when I’m satisfied, I swipe the fresh blood away with the pad of my thumb.

I step back, admiring my beautiful little dove—the fresh marks across her skin that showcase to the world she’smine.A little whimper falls from her swollen lips, though I can’t see her expression to tell whether it was one of pain or pleasure. One thing is for certain, though—her body is spent.

My heart twinges as I gaze at the fresh bruises spreading across her translucent skin, and I worry for a moment that I may have been too rough on her.

Is this what regret feels like?

I don’t like it. And I need to make it right. Stepping up to Seraphina, I release the cuffs on her ankles, then each of her wrists. When I’m done, her body falls forward, deadweight across my shoulder.

Although, she weighs far, far less than I would like her to.

I frown at the feel of her bones pressing into me, trying to recall when she last ate. She never seemed to eat when she went to her apartment, so I always assumed the old woman was feeding her when she went to visit. Still, that would mean it’s been…

Two days? That can’t be right.

Yet when I do the math, I find it is. My chest clenches with sorrow as I reposition Seraphina, holding her frail body to my chest with a single arm. In her addled state, she nestles her face against my chest, and I nearly collapse when she presses her lips to my skin.

Seraphina just kissed me. She just kissed me. Okay, I have to play this cool.

But it’s no use, and nothing short of a bullet could stop my heart from racing as she peppers little kisses across my collarbone. I tug her closer, careful not to apply too much pressure for fear I’ll snap her bones.

I remember when I found Baccus years ago—how fragile he seemed—how it felt like I would crush him every time I adjusted my grip. He, too, had never been cared for. Never loved, or respected. They’re alike in many ways, my little dove and Bacchus. Both cynical of the world and prone to aggression when cornered. They can spread their wings and fly anywhere they want, not tethered to the earth like the rest of us. But they’re loyal. Once they bond, it’s for life.

Yes, they share many similarities. But the nearly identical thing—uncanny in likeness—is the torture they hold in their eyes. It’s so deep, black, and endless. It seeps out of their very being, infecting the air around them.

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